


reboot from external drive

by CallicoKitten



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Instability, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:16:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: So here you are. Back to square one in the dingy basement of a warehouse, huddled around a monitor.Half a decade or so ago you'd have counted this as a loss, as the worst possible outcome but now you've had time to lick your wounds, you've built your empire, you've had it crash down around your ears by your own hand. You've burnt your bridges, driven yourself mad with it and yet here, at the end of all things and the beginning of anything else you're with the only two people in the world you've ever really given a damn about and you feel calm.You feel steady.You don't think you've ever felt like this before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> takes place mostly during those four years we didn't get to see. i started this like, a day after the series finale but didn't finish it until now and honestly, i only remember about 50% of what happened so i might have rewritten history for this but whatever, look me in the eye and tell me this isn't canon
> 
> still bummed this fandom is so small

So here you are. Back to square one in the dingy basement of a warehouse, huddled around a monitor.

Half a decade or so ago you'd have counted this as a loss, as the worst possible outcome but now you've had time to lick your wounds, you've built your empire, you've had it crash down around your ears by your own hand. You've burnt your bridges, driven yourself mad with it and yet here, at the end of all things and the beginning of anything else you're with the only two people in the world you've ever really given a damn about and you feel calm.

You feel steady.

You don't think you've ever felt like this before.

-

After Ryan, you stand on the beach, looking out at the waves, out at the bridge.

The people around you are shirtless, in shorts, it's warm out but you're so damn cold. Colder than you've ever felt.

You saw someone jump from the bridge once. Your second week here and your first time surfing in the bay. It was early, five, six o'clock and you'd flopped down on the sand, panting in your wetsuit feeling freer than you had in months when you saw the little figure fall.

It must have only been a few seconds but it felt like an age and they had hit the water before you thought to do something. But what? What could you do by then? So you did nothing, packed up your board and drove home, lay on your couch for a while staring up at the ceiling, replaying it in your head.

You're not going to jump, you know that. You might have screamed yourself horse about it to your father at twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen but you'd never cut deep enough, never taken the right amount of pills, never tied the noose correctly.

It wasn't that you didn't want to live, it was that you didn't want to live like _this_ with this void in your chest, this gapping chasm that you never thought you'd fill and this electricity under your skin making you go and go and go and _go._

You wonder what Ryan thought of as he fell. Whether he regretted it.

You'd stood on that balcony when you thought your heart was pumping poison through your veins, insidious little particle that would rot you from the inside out, looked down at the street below and wondered how long it would take, what the impact would feel like.

You've read somewhere that statistically, most people regret trying to kill themselves.

What a waste.

You call Gordon when you get home because he's the only one you know who'll answer and he comes over with a six pack even though neither of you should really be drinking right now and when you're both too drunk to move you think he says, "I don't think me and Donna are gonna make it, Joe."

And you cover your eyes with your hands.

"What are you going to do now?" Gordon asks.

You have no idea.

-

You don't go to the funeral, it feels wrong to after all, this was all your fault. Gordon doesn't either, he comes over to your apartment, grumbling something about an argument with Donna and not wanting things to be awkward for the rest of the Mutiny team. You buy it mostly because your brain is too foggy right now to do more than the most basic tasks, it's only later you realise Gordon didn't want you to be alone.

-

You keep thinking you'll stop missing Cameron, that you'll stop feeling like you've been punched in the gut when you walk past a girl with short blonde hair and wide blue eyes, that you'll be able to walk past a _Space Bike_ advert without feeling empty and bitter and hollow.

Gordon mostly finds this hilarious.

-

It happens more times than you'd care to admit.

Gordon becomes a steady feature in your life post-Ryan, post-Cameron, post-fucking everything you ever thought had meaning and you call him past midnight more times than you can count and you pretend it's work related even though he can hear the desperation and loneliness in your voice. You make small talk and listen to him chatter about his radio until the roar in your ears of everything has died down and you hang up before falling into a boneless, dreamless sleep.

He calls you just as often.

Calls you when Mutiny folds, when Donna's had enough. Sleeps on your couch for a month or two while he rebuilds his life.

(He calls you when the girls are at Donna's and his brain has forgotten how to move his legs or his arms won't stop twitching and usually, he's fine by the time you get there, making coffee in the kitchen with shaking hands and making apologies.

"I'm sorry, Joe, I shouldn't of - I just panicked, you know? I'm fine now, you can go."

You never do. You stay and play nintendo or steal Joanie's weed and get stoned until Gordon's stopped looking so damn _fragile._

"It'll get worse," Gordon says. Always says. Like you need a reminder that his brain is slowly becoming mush.)

So when it happens, you're not all that surprised.

Gordon's drunk and you're at the very least tipsy, he's newly divorced, he and Donna are batting around the idea of custody, baring teeth at each other and going for the throat with their insults.

You blame it on loneliness when he slips sideways on the couch and kisses you. Loneliness and curiosity, maybe. He knows about the men you bring home, knows but doesn't care which is refreshing. He threads a hand through your hair and pushes his tongue past your teeth and you think that maybe, just maybe, he's as drawn to you as you are to him and it's not -

You don't like him like this. Don't want him like this except that you _do._

You don't dream of him like you do Cameron. Don't ache for him. Don't feel a desperate need to have him pressed up against you.

It's just that Gordon is there, is _always_ there, kind and calm and steady and falling apart and you're helpless to stop that so you let him take the lead, let him get this out of his system.

His hands might be clumsy but his kisses sure aren't.

-

"So, you finally figured it out, huh?" Gordon asks, he's smiling gently, like you've made great strides today or something.

They're in some dingy dive bar that Gordon used to hang out at a lot during his Mutiny days, Cameron's bowed out to go home with Tom. You're trying to be civil, you really fucking are but your arm aches and itches under the cast and there's a hole in your floor/ceiling that Tom hasn't offered to pay for yet.

You frown at Gordon over your whiskey, "What?"

"Cameron," Gordon offers. "You're in love with her."

"Oh," you say. "Yeah."

It was like waking up, realising you loved her and yeah, maybe it was obvious to everyone else involved, maybe it was obvious to you for far longer than you cared to admit but you weren't facing the prospect of seeing her every goddamned day before either. You could leave, you suppose. It's not like you're really bringing anything to team outside of patented MacMillan charm but you don't want to. And maybe that's selfishness or egoism or your fucking childish nature showing but right now, you don't give a damn. You're not throwing this away so Cameron can play house with that idiot.

You've tried playing house, the whole white-picket fence bullshit. It doesn't work for people like you. For people like Cameron. You're not even sure it worked for people like Gordon. Like Donna. Like Bos. Like your dad.

You look at Gordon and you could say, _if they hadn't gone to Japan, their marriage wouldn't have lasted a year_ because it's true. You know it's true. Cameron only stuck with Tom because he whisked her away to a new place with a new language and a new way of being and only him to rely on. It would have been different if she'd been here and been free to run when she wanted to.

But you don't. Maybe because you're tired. Maybe because you've fucking matured. Instead, you drain you drink and signal a refill from the bartender. "Doesn't matter, she's married," you say.

Gordon makes a face like half of him wants to tell you to go for it and half of him is proud of your restraint.

"We'll see," he says. "We'll see."

You drive him home and there's a moment in the driveway where you both linger, he might invite you in and you might accept, you'll finish up the six-pack in the fridge, maybe fuck on the living room floor or something but Gordon spots Joanie walking down the street and mutters, "She was supposed to be back an hour ago!"

And you really don't want to be in the middle of _that_ so you leave, tell him you'll see him tomorrow.

-

Joanie turns up at work with Gordon the next day.

"She got expelled," Gordon grumbles by of explanation and Joanie looks like she's trying to appear proud of that fact but is actually quite overwhelmed with the whole thing. You lost count of the number of schools you got kicked out of but things were different for you, you think. Your dad had enough money to buy you in to anywhere.

"It's a phase," you assure him, ignoring Joanie's glare from across the room. She doesn't like you much anymore if she ever did, blames you a bit for her parents' divorce, you think. "She's a good kid, she'll grow out of it."

"I hope so," Gordon says, sounding worried.

Joanie looks happier when Cameron arrives, forsakes any image concerns she has by throwing her arms around Cameron's neck like Cameron's the big sister she never had.

At lunch, Gordon takes Joanie with him to pick up Mexican food or something and Cameron lets out a sigh of relief. It's been tense, with Joanie snarking at her dad and Gordon huffing, trying to keep his cool.

You catch Cameron's eye mostly by accident and she smiles, flustered. A real, genuine smile. "Sorry, it's just... The last time I saw her she was a little girl. Now she's practically like a real person, it's just a lot to take in."

You've seen Joanie and Hayley pretty regularly, babysat them when Gordon was completely out of options, sat through awkward family dinners when you'd earned pity-invites.

"You don't think of children as people?" you ask and Cameron laughs.

"No, I just. Well, you know what I mean." She smiles at you again and for a moment, it's like it used to be. Like it _should_ be.

"So you and Tom don't have any plans to...?"

Cameron shakes her head, smiling still, "No. I mean, Tom wants them but I - " she must realise who she's speaking to and think better of it because she clams up and when she looks back up at you there's something different in her gaze.

"I don't want things to be awkward between us," she says.

"Neither do I," you reply.

"So I need to know," she continues. "I need to know if - " she breaks off again. Looks away.

"Cameron - "you start, gently but she looks back at you and you fall silent.

"I need to know, Joe and no bullshit this time because I - I want to move on with my life and I can't do that if you're still..."

"Cameron," you say, mouth dry. "Ask me what you want to ask me."

She takes a breath, looks up at you brave and bright and defiant and _oh,_ you'd wage wars for this woman. Burn down cities. Dismantle empires. All she'd have to do is ask.

She swallows and then, "What is this, between us? Is it real or am I just looking of a way out..." she's asking the question as much to herself as to you, twists the wedding ring on her finger like even though it's been there almost five years it still feels uncomfortable. Out of place.

You've spent your whole life building things to tear them down. Looking for a way out when things get too real, too challenging, too close.

Cameron looks lost.

This is all on you.

Your mouth is dry.


End file.
